It kinda hits home

A couple of days ago we were on a medical flight to Maun. When we arrived at Francistown to drop off the patient, we received a call directing us back to Maun. There was a six year old boy (Jacob's age) with a head injury as a result of a car accident who also needed to be transported to Francistown. I wasn't prepared for the emotions that I would feel when I saw this young boy, and heard his cries of pain. As well, although the hospital had bandaged his head, they seemed to have ignored the torn flesh on parts of his leg. I became very emotional inside, feeling what I can imagine the Father of this child was feeling. I prayed, asking God to allow me to do my job to the best of my ability, as I was the pilot flying this leg of the trip. I was there to do a job. My part is to fly the plane, the paramedics are there to care for the patients. Together, we can save lives - sometimes. (A few days earlier, the patient died before the plane got off the ground). We had a third flight to Maun - Francistown the next morning, and the paramedics took the time to check in on the little boy. I am praising God that he was doing much better, and the scan showed no hemorrhage on the brain - perhaps a miracle itself.

The public (ground) ambulances here are basically transport only, and provide no medical care for the patients themselves. It is boggling to wrap your mind around this, as it is so foreign from what we have back home. I am struggling to understand how a patient in critical condition can simply be loaded into the back of a truck and driven to the airport with no medical equipment to sustain them, but I have since been told that the clinics themselves often don't have much medical equipment. So without the airplane, many patients would not make it to the larger hospital, and would not get the care they needed. I am grateful for the lives that can be saved because of the airplane, and the (private) paramedics we transport.